


Kiss From A Rose

by orphan_account



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Confession, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy, Kiss Confession, Kissing, M/M, One-Shot, Pining Arthur, Resolved Romantic Tension, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Tension, Shy Arthur, Soft kissing, Surprise Kissing, awkward arthur, resolved tension, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In messy, shaking handwriting read:“A kiss from a rose, that is what it felt like. Delicate petals against the rough of two thorns.”





	Kiss From A Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This was mildly rushed, so I’m sorry if it’s not the best. I’m also sorry for not posting for a while! Regardless, I really hope you enjoy.

Charles came to notice, gradually, Arthur’s habit of drawling. By that, I mean, his endless scribblings within his journal. Charles wasn’t sure quite what Arthur wrote about, or whether he even wrote at all. It could be that he was hiding a secret passion for artistry. Either way, Charles had fathomed a curiosity for such. He almost felt a need to address the habit, or rather hobby, but refrained. Considering the item in question was a journal, Charles thought it to be personal. Arthur was still cloaked in mystery a lot of the time, no matter how long Charles had been there. He had his doubts upon whether Dutch even knew, knew about this quaint little thing that held homage within Arthur’s satchel. His observations would often satisfy his doubts, and Dutch rarely had time to give even short fixations upon such minute details. Charles finally decided to ask, though he wouldn’t be diminished if not given an answer. Like I said, it could be personal, for all he knew. 

Arthur was perched upon a log, heat of the fire warming his weary back, earning pleasant hums. Hums that softly radiated from the back of his throat, tinged by the burn of previous whiskeys. Charles almost walked away, not wanting to disturb him. He believed, truly, that this was the happiest he’d seen Arthur in a while. No, the happiest he’d seen him ever. Yet, he needn’t worry. Arthur acknowledged his presence, merely patting the space beside him, beckoning Charles to take a seat. He obliged, and eyes fell upon the scene before them. The beautiful, widespread body of water that surrounded Clemen’s point. Charles had witnessed Arthur fish there multiple times, sometimes with Jack. Ripples danced upon the surface of the water, telling tales of fish that bathed in the moonlight. Everything felt at peace. Well, aside from the drunken singing of Sean that rang from behind the two. Arthur spluttered, a shy chuckle reaching the air. Sean always managed to muse him, and Charles found himself laughing too. It was always the same song, though I don’t think anyone minded. 

“What brings you, Charles?” Arthur asked, closing the gape of Charles’ mouth, silencing the words he was about to speak. “I wanted to ask you something.” Charles replied, eyes fluctuating from Arthur’s face to his rested palm. Arthur nodded meekly, before directing his full attention toward Charles. “It’s about your journal...” He began, Arthur’s head cocked to one side in bewilderment. “I didn’t think anyone noticed or even cared about this ol’ thing.” Arthur interrupted, scoffing slightly, raising the journal from his side. Charles peered, continuing, “What do you use it for?” Arthur startled, as though Charles had lunged at him. What was so shocking about a casual question? “Well...” Arthur seemed almost...timid. Strange, considering the simplicity of the matter. Charles ignored it. “I like to write about things or...people...I like.” He said, plainly. Charles nodded along, running his fingers across the worn cover, as Arthur still held it. “Who do you write about...camp...maybe Dutch?” There was a slight tease in his last suggestion, riling Arthur a tad. “Why would I write about boss...” Arthur mumbled, hint of grump about him. Nothing unusual. Charles pinched at the covers edge, squinting in growing question, “Can I take a look?” Part of Charles expected Arthur to snap, snag the book away and storm off. Yet, he didn’t. With care, Arthur passed the journal to Charles. Gentle hands laying it upon his lap.

Charles flicked through the pages, nothing striking him too much. That was until, he stumbled upon an illustration of himself. Arthur had turned away, unable to soothe the puzzle that has morphed upon Charles’ features. Shaking his head, Charles enthralled himself back into the illustration. It was well done, unexpected from a man such as Morgan. Scribbles decorated the majority, most likely writing abolished by embarrassment. 

“Arthur-“ Charles was prepared to speak to Arthur, pluck himself from this state of confusion. Instead, he was plucked into a firm kiss. The scent of alcohol intertwined with a strange, unique musk. There was a twinge of leather, ghost of coffee. It was odd, but nice. Arthur’s lips were neatly pressed against Charles, despite lacking experience. Charles easily sunk, warmth of Arthur’s hands looking into his cheeks. A retraction came, and Arthur clasped the air, chest taking deep rises and falls. Charles was...almost starstruck, dazed by the cacophony of smells and sensations. “Ar...” He trailed off, blinking slow. Arthur shifted awkwardly, “I’m sorry...I just...” He sighed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for...for a while.” Charles recoiled a little, bashful, “Me too.” Was all he could muster.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, also thank you for the love on my last two works. I was overwhelmed! I hope this was just as loveable as my previous writings. Have a great day!


End file.
